


white rabbit

by godjaebum



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, End of the World, Fallen Angels, Hate to Love, M/M, also very slow pace, like really slow im sorry i take forever to get to the point, lots of random side characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9706139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godjaebum/pseuds/godjaebum
Summary: the end of the world starts with a storm; first a flash of bright light, then darkness.that angel!au jjp fic no one asked for.





	1. one.

****_I see the bad moon arising, I see trouble on the way._

_I see earthquakes and lightnin', I see bad times today.  
_ bad moon rising, mourning ritual

 

 

* * *

 

 

The end of the world starts with a storm.

Those religious would call it judgement day, the day of reckoning - all different words for the same thing. God's arrival, the day where those good are rewarded and those who have sinned meet their promised fate. Those of little to no faith all agreed on one thing: whatever it was, it wasn't any good, so-called gods be damned.

Lightning cracked well past midnight in the bright city, turning night to day and illuminating the entire world in a silver glow for half a moment before the planet was plunged into darkness, a dark so black it was almost suffocating.

Then, the thunder. A clap of sound cracking across the sky almost deafening to the ears - an abrupt growl a thousand times greater than that of even the fiercest animals to walk the earth.

This was the beginning of the end of days - families awoken from bed, children crying from the sudden noise that no weather channel could predict. Drunks and bums fell on their asses on wet pavement, dazed and confused as they looked towards the skies, the pitch black lingering above the towering buildings and concealing anything that might be happening in the sky from view.

Only, soon after the storm began came the stars, clouds so thick they concealed the twinkling spots parting to reveal the brightest sky the city diluted by pollution had ever seen.

Humans wandered outside in amazement and curiosity, gazes in the sky at the startling change in events as the stars shone brighter than they ever had in the busy, bustling city. Children lifted wide eyes to the stars and pointed as they stood barefoot in their pajamas; late night train cars unloaded timid passengers, businessmen apprehensive to the anomaly going on in their city and women anxious to get home from their late-working jobs to appease their own children.

Scientists and astrology enthusiasts alike pulled telescopes out for a closer look at the sight before them, pictures and videos being taken immediately to be recorded later that morning after the event had passed them. It would go down in history, they were sure of it - the stars had to have been closer to earth that night than they had ever been before, and the moon twice as so.

As the city watched on, a single star seemed to drop from its place, moving as if in slow motion as it descended from it's position among the others in the dark sky. It moved not across the sky but downward from it, moving faster the closer it got, and just as a child closed their eyes to make a wish on the peculiar fallen star, another followed.

The world watched in silence as the star fell, then the next, and soon the entire sky seemed to be dripping, stars collapsing on themselves and descending at a rapid pace directly towards those who watched in shock, amazement, and fear alike. These were not stars, it seemed, but asteroids moving faster than ever before as they catapulted hazardly in every direction.

Children screamed, no longer fascinated by the nearing balls of gas but petrified as they gripped their parent's pant legs, their caregivers hesitating only a moment before rushing to retreat into their homes and attempt to escape the advancing flames, the balls of gas only growing brighter as they entered earth's atmosphere.

Their attempts were useless as the stars reached the ground, engraving deep craters into the earth as they touched solid ground and sending quakes two miles in every direction - the ground came alive in flames as each star met the earth, growing rapidly as more and more of the falling stars reached their destination.

The night the world ended, it burned, and from the flames arose otherworldly creatures, standing tall and as blinding as the stars in the craters the asteroids had made. Their forms against the flickering heat were unmistakably human, or would be if it were not for the dark masses rising from their shoulders and extending ten feet in each direction, their shadows stretched and distorted on the ground in front of them.

These were angels, but not those depicted in the Bible to comfort those in pain or watch over earth as messengers of God. In the frightened eyes of humans in the dead of night, their laughter was reminiscent of the tales of demons, and their eyes shown with a glint that promised the end of days.

 

* * *

 

The night the world ended began as any other for Jinyoung.

The young man of twenty three worked the late shift on Thursday nights after his last university class in Deangelo's, a dingy bar in the rundown part of the city that had questionable hospitality but paid enough to keep both he and his brother going.

That particular Thursday was like any other, Jinyoung mused as he produced a tattered and stained rag to wipe down his counter. Spilles drinks and crumbs from various bar food littered the dark wood, already beginning to stain despite his best attempts to keep the area clean. It was nearing the end of his shift, and due to it being a Thursday night, only a few consumers remained in the dimly lit building. Sipping beers and watching the news station playing on low volume on one of the televisions overhead, they roamed the small joint, trying to waste as much time as possible before returning to their regular lives.

Jinyoung sympathized with the haggard looking men with tired, drawn out looks in their eyes and a soju in hand, and often found himself on the end of drunken ramblings about how terrible their lives were going; this Thursday was no different.

As he finished cleaning up his work area, the last few glasses stacked and ready to be sent to the other worker in the kitchen, an older man sitting at the end of the bar spoke up. His dark hair had come out of its gelled style, and he sported a six o'clock shadow much past needing to be kept.

The man threw his head back to take a swig out of the green bottle in hand before he spoke. "Damned kids these days, huh, boy?" He snorted out gruffly, eyes holding a drunken haze but with a glimmer of something lingering in them that made the hair on Jinyoung's arms raise and the back of his neck tingle in something akin to fear.

The man waved his bottle in the direction of the television, hand wobbling and threatening to spill the contents of his drink, and Jinyoung's gaze followed to where a young female news anchor was giving a report on a killing that had taken place only a few hours prior in a little ways uptown. It looked to be the work of the Red, the city's latest terror. A family had stumbled upon some sort of confrontation on the way home from a movie theater and had been shot in the middle of the street; the police, quoted by the news anchor, had yet to catch the ones responsible but were assuring the city that they had it under control.

Jinyoung snorted at that, because although her words seemed true enough, the gang of criminals had yet to be arrested. After more than half a year of the violence, there was not even a hint at who they were looking for due to the red bandanas they wore at all times.

Specifically, The Red were a gang of men from the bad side of town that had emerged in the past year - they wore dark crimson bandanas and dealt in death and gore more than anything. They were obvious and random with their assaults, and the city police force had yet to catch even a suspect despite their lack of secrecy. Lately, they had been growing in both size and amount of killings, with no sign of slowing if the latest report showed anything.

Jinyoung hadn't had any first hand experience with the thugs, but he'd heard enough about them to be wary, especially with the section of the city he resided in, and watched his back at all times. Looking back at the man, who also had attention on the flat screen, he placated the older male. "Yessir," he nodded, wiping out a glass with the rag hanging over his shoulder. "Getting pretty out of hand."

The man laughed, gruff and more than a little bitter as he turned his gaze back onto Jinyoung, eyes sharp and serious despite his drunken state as he glanced the boy up and down in his work uniform. "You ain't involved in any of that shit, are ya? It's bad business, I'm warning you."

Jinyoung averted his gaze, the weight of it burning a hole into the young man's black hair as he turned to place the glass onto a rack just behind the bar. When he turned back to face the man, he found that he was still watching him with something like contempt in his eyes. "No sir," Jinyoung replied. "Just work and university for me - I have a little brother to look after." Hoping that was enough to please the man, Jinyoung gently reminded him of their closing times and undid the half apron that was a part of his work uniform.

The man slapped a bill on the table as well as his bottle before abruptly standing from the bar, chair scraping slightly as he looked only once more at Jinyoung with that unwavering gaze. "You be careful out there, kid," He warned, oddly serious as he met the young man eye to eye. It seemed to stir something in Jinyoung's lower stomach, a sense of fear that was unknown to him. "Streets are dangerous these nights, trust me on that one."

Averting his gaze, the man pivoted on one foot to face the entrance and stumbled as he took his leave from the bar, the only sign that he was anything other than sober despite the uncountable amount of drinks he had to have consumed.

Only once the telltale sign of the bell chiming was heard to announce the man's departure did Jinyoung release a deep breath of relief - he didn't know why, but something in the man's odd behavior struck a chord with him. He seemed shaken as he cleaned up the rest of the desolate establishment, hands shaking slightly and eyes wavering as he fumbled to close up as quickly as possible.

He and the kitchen boy were the last to exit the grimy bar, both making sure to turn off all lights and lock the front door before endowing each other a good night on the sidewalk. Jinyoung, the words from the drunken man earlier weighing in the back of his mind, tacked on a quiet "be safe" after the taller, lanky boy retreating into the darkness of the street.

On his own, Jinyoung turned the opposite way and faces the deserted street. After witnessing and being reminded of the dangers of living in a well-populated area, the city road had never seemed more menacing than it currently did, only a few streetlights overhead to light the way as he took quick strides down the sidewalk.

It seemed that the man from earlier had managed to spook Jinyoung much more than he had previously thought, as for some reason he heard every little commotion and felt a chill up his back his entire way home, a constant feeling of something about to happen or as if someone was watching him. Unconsciously, Jinyoung quickened his pace as he neared the apartment building he and his brother abided in a few streets away from Jinyoung's work.

A mere two blocks from being considered home, a young man stumbled out onto the street in front of Jinyoung from an alley, unsteady on his feet and groaning in pain. Jinyoung started, skidding to a halt and raising his hands in what could have been both a defensive mechanism or a motion of surprise.

Heartbeat picking up against his will, Jinyoung took a step back in precaution as the form of the other person abruptly lurched forward into the circle of light from the overhead street lamp. A nervous sweat had broken out across Jinyoung's lower back and forehead, an abrupt sign for him to hightail it home, but he stood rooted to the pavement as he caught sight of the man's face.

What once could have been honey-colored hair was now matted down and sticky with what looked a lot like blood, stuck to the sides of his head and forehead by the substance. He couldn't tell if the blood came from the man or not, but it ran down the side of his face in a small trickle, and one eye shuttered closed from a bruise starting to form. He looked haggard, and when Jinyoung met the boy's eyes - for that was what he was, baby-faced and much younger than Jinyoung - there was a wild look reflected in the dark orbs that briefly reminded him of a cornered animal.

He clutched the side of his black shirt, above where his ribs were located, and he breathed harshly enough that Jinyoung could hear it from where he stood about three feet away. He leaned over slightly in a hunched position, favoring his right foot over his left, and when he straightened to stare down Jinyoung he could see a look of discomfort cross the smooth planes of the male's face.

They stood on the deserted street, quiet as they both weighed and examined each other, and Jinyoung's hands fidgeted at his side with the urge to duck around the kid and continue home to where his brother was surely waiting up for him. Just as he moved to take a step forward and carry through with the thought, there was a loud shout from down the street, and the other man jumped, pivoting to look behind him in the direction Jinyoung was facing.

From behind, Jinyoung could see the muscles in the boy's shoulders tense and his palms ball up from where they hung limply at his side, ready for a fight. A wave of understanding washed over Jinyoung at the sight, his own body tensing up in response to the knowledge. Someone was after the boy, that much was obvious, and Jinyoung without meaning to had somehow gotten himself involved.

Quickly, he grabbed the unknown boy's arm and ushered them both into the alleyway he had appeared from, a firm hand on his shoulder to push them both down into a crouching position. Up close, Jinyoung could see a shallow gash from which the blood on his forehead was emerging from. It didn't look as if it would need stitches, but the boy's face was pale and it didn't seem to be slowing as it left a dark red trail down his left temple.

Minutes passed, and with each growing second Jinyoung grew more anxious - were they being too loud? The boy was panting harshly beside him, and it only grew louder as the shouts grew closer and footsteps were heard. Alarmed, Jinyoung put a palm to the teen's mouth.

A look of surprise flashed in the boy's eyes, but he seemed to understand by the way he placed his own hand over Jinyoung's and crowded further into the shadow of the wall. In the near-darkness, Jinyoung could see a mixture of both fear and gratitude shining in the younger male's brown eyes.

The voices reached a climax, angry yelling audible and seemingly right beside them along with clangs of metal and heavy feet on concrete. "Kim Yugyeom? Where are you, you piece of shit!" A gruff shout rang out, voice scratchy as if they had been doing this for quite some time. "We had a fuckin' deal, you know that! We 'ont take back promises around here!"

Soon, the voices seemed to fade again as they continued down the street, and the boy let out a warm huff of breath against Jinyoung's hand that he took to be sigh of relief rather than a gasp of pain. Slowly, Jinyoung pulled his hand away from the boy's mouth and retreated back to his own body.

"Are you okay?" Jinyoung asked quietly, leaning back to give the boy a bit of breathing space but keeping his voice low, barely an audible whisper. The other nodded gruffly, rising as best he could into a standing position and not bothering to wait for Jinyoung to follow.

He leaned forward out of the alley, looking to make sure the coast was clear before he turned back to Jinyoung, who sat still on the pavement and looked at the other male patiently.

"Don't follow me," The voice was soft, higher than Jinyoung would have expected as the teen pointed a hesitant finger towards the 23-year-old. "Go home, and stay off the streets. They aren't safe, you know."

Jinyoun blinked at the order from the boy, and then held in a snort at the irony of the words. Taking in the boy's bloodstained and battered appearance, it seemed he more than anyone else would know about just how dangerous the streets were. Nevertheless, he nodded in agreement and stood from his cramped position.

Even standing, the teenager towered over Jinyoung, but that didn't stop him from reaching up and patting the top of the boy's hair. He was careful to avoid the area that seemed to have blood, yet the boy still winced at the action.

"You take care of yourself too, okay?" Jinyoung said quietly, averting his eyes. He wasn't a sentimental person, usually, preferring to look out for himself, but something about younger male reminded him of his younger brother at home. It could be the eyes, Jinyoung mused, for they were dark but shone with emotions so easily that he could read the teen like a book.

The boy, a bit shocked, nodded dumbly at Jinyoung with wide eyes before he took a heavy step back - and then he was gone, disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared into Jinyoung's view.

Jinyoung waited in the alley for a short period of time, giving the younger male plenty of time to choose and set in the direction he needed to before Jinyoung began again towards his home. When he was sure the boy was gone, he took a step out of the alley -

And promptly fell back on his ass, a crack of thunder rippling so loudly it rumbled the earth and set his ears ringing. Dazed, Jinyoung searched the sky, finding only darkness greating him in return. Eyes widening, Jinyoung pulled himself to his feet as a flash of lightning followed the thunder, so bright it blinded him for half a moment. White spots flashed by in his vision as he half ran, half stumbled down the sidewalk towards his home.

The rain began falling harshly afterwards, water unusually warm as it pelted his skin harshly and soaked him within the timeframe of a few seconds. Blinking away the raindrops like tears as he neared his apartment complex, Jinyoung's mind raced with the strange occurence.

Nonetheless, he pushed himself into the building and sucked in a breath like he had been drowning in the rain outside. Another rumble of thunder and flash of lightning followed his entrance, and Jinyoung was suddenly reminded of just how much his little brother hated storms.

He scurried upstairs a little quicker at the thought, feet slipping out from underneath him in his hurry to reach his apartment.

Only, when he reached the top of the staircase he came up short, feet squeaking beneath him as he pulled to a stop at the sight of his apartment door flung open. The hallway was deathly quiet as Jinyoung stared the biege door down, heartbeat thudding dully in his ears as he began to panic.

The door always remained locked while Jinyoung wasn't home - he knew so, because his little brother locked it behind him on the way out of it each night. They both were more than aware of the dangers outside their home, Jinyoung's brother much more so than he. The little boy was terrified, always having doors closed and windows sealed unless it was broad daylight.

Hesitantly, Jinyoung stepped towards his door. Once he was placed in front of it, his heart seemed to drop into his knees. There was a clear sign of a struggle near the entrance of their home, the small entry table kicked over and the shoes near the door were in a disarray.

"Youngjae?" Jinyoung called out, his voice strangely loud in the middle of a deathly quiet, and he realized with a start that the storm, raging just a moment ago, was over.

Stepping further into the apartment, Jinyoung sucked in a strangled gasp at the sight of his living room - the couch cushions were thrown from their regular positions, the glass-covered coffee table shattered. The small shards seemed to shimmer and shine from where they lay, and yet Jinyoung couldn't tear his eyes from the dark splatter stain that colored the once-biege carpeting.

"Youngjae?" Jinyoung, called out again, more urgently this time as he spun away from the sight and sprinted in the direction of their bedrooms. "Youngjae!"

Tossing open doors showed no results - both rooms looked the same as they had when he had left for work in the evening, the beds unmade yet untouched. Even the bathroom coughed up nothing, small but empty.

Slightly hysterical, Jinyoung stumbled his way back into the main living area, staring deliberately at a blank wall ahead of him to avoid the mess on the carpet. Eyes darting every way, Jinyoung called Youngjae's name multiple times, voice raising with every repetition of his brother's name.

His voice dying in his throat, his entire world lapsed into silence as he sunk to his knees on the carpet. The silence was more deafening than the storm as it rang in his ears, his head falling forward to rest in his shaking hands as he began to sob.

His baby brother, who was scared of pretty much everything but had a heart made of gold, was gone. Sometime during the hours he worked, mind preoccupied with drunk old men in shifty bars, someone had taken the fifteen year old from their home with a clear goal in mind. One that no matter how much Jinyoung ran it over in his mind, he couldn't make sense of.

His knees sore from the kneeling position and tired from the sudden exhaustion and trauma, Jinyoung collapsed forward onto the dirtied carpet, the small shards of glass biting into his palms. So many questions and thoughts had to have been running through his mind, but for some reason Jinyoung could not think anything except _why_. Why, why, _why him of all people_? Poor defenseless Youngjae, who was scared of storms and the dark but still liked cartoons and manga and helping the old lady across the hall, _why him_?

His quiet sobs and intakes of breath were the only sounds filling the small apartment, the world deathly silent as the young man mourned for the one he had lost by himself, their small apartment the majority of all Youngjae had ever known and Jinyoung the only family he had left.

Then, the screaming started, and the world went up in flames - in the midst of the chaos and the end of the world, a boy sat in glass shards with a mind full of only one word ringing in his ears.


	2. two.

Though he knows the city is nothing but a ghost town with whispers in the wind and quickened footsteps in the dead of night to avoid the demons that now haunt the earth, Jinyoung remains. He remains because, like a fool, he still childishly hopes that Youngjae is out there somewhere, waiting for his big brother, his hero, to come save him or wait for him to return. So like a fool, Jinyoung waits.

He waits and remains on the block on the bad side of town in a run down apartment complex shattered and ruined by an infection with no cure - demons from every story he's ever heard from many different religions growing up, who walk the ground with bare feet and eyes like flames, eras of indifference and tales of destruction and murder spreading like wildfire from those few who decide to remain in the city.

No one asks, no one cares; everyone has their own ghosts lurking in the city that prevent them from leaving, and in times like this no one has much of a mind to worry about anyone but themselves.

Three weeks since the invasion, and mankind has already demoted themselves back to the feral animals that they once were, turning on themselves instead of uniting against the outside force of evil; gang violence has spread like wildfire in the demise of any order human kind has been able to create, petty street rivalries springing up from block to block for resources, things turning bloody quickly and the prices high for raiding on a block not claimed as "your own".

Jinyoung thinks it's stupid, but he cares little for gang politics or the lurking demons that vacate the skies by his window during the day and his streets during the night; he's managed to stretch out the supplies already inside his apartment to last him this far, and he knows many of his previous neighbors have vacated the premises if his situation becomes dire.

He spends his days with the windows barricaded and a pen in hand, writing to keep himself from going insane in the days his brother has been gone; ineligible scribbles to keep his nervous ticks at bay and thoughts from straying too far in a negative direction. He's not crazy, but three weeks of facing the same walls covered in specks of his brother's blood and floors littered with his brother's books have him reaching a turning point.

Twenty five days after angels fell from the sky and decided to claim the earth as their own, Jinyoung steps outside.

The streets are no different than he remembers, at first; cracked cement filled with potholes dig deep into the street that runs straight through the neighborhood, the tall buildings looming eerily overhead as they always do this late at night. The streetlights aren't working, as they haven't since that night, and yet the street doesn't scare him. There, he can see the first signs of human life: a pair of hesitant eyes peering out of an alley, a woman and her husband scurrying across the street with hands clasped tight together under the cover of darkness.

The night, it seems, still belongs to the humans.

He doesn't need much, Jinyoung concedes with himself as he starts his trek with silent, hesitant steps and taps of Converse shoes on faded, crumbling cement. A breath of fresh air and a chance to think and he'll return to his apartment, he promises - surely, Youngjae wouldn't suddenly appear after three weeks of radio silence in the fifteen minutes it takes to walk a block.

Halfway around the street, he feels strangely at ease. The walk is going far more smoothly than he had thought, and as he tilts his head to look at the starless sky, it's clear of shadows hovering overhead, the moon almost unnaturally bright in the early evening. The faint tickling at the crown of his head reminds him to be alert at all times, as he's learned appearances aren't always to be trusted, and he quickens his pace despite his urgent want of distance from his apartment.

Though there are a few other humans lingering on the streets, none seem threatening, most even seem afraid of him. They keep their heads tilted down low, eyes clinging to bits of asphalt below as they go about their own business in a hurried, silent fashion. Jinyoung does the same, setting his gaze on the familiar brown brick building in the near distance.

His thoughts wander back to Youngjae as his feet tap tap tap on pavement, though they tend to drift back to the younger most always in this day and time. Was it simply a coincidence that the same night the world ended, his own life did too? That Youngjae was stolen from their home? It simply couldn't be; that much, Jinyoung knew. It was too strange of an occurrence not to be entangled in the fuckers that brought hell to earth.

With thoughts of those kind running through his mind like a raging thunderstorm, his blood boils with contempt for the species; though he pretends to not care about what they've done to his city, his world, the mere thought of their kind having something to do with the specks of his brother's blood freckled in the walls of his home is enough to want to kill every one of them.

He's pulled out of his raging temper as he approaches his apartment complex - the previously untouched glass doors are a cascade of glittering shards on the ground, the remaining frame of the door thrown open and nothing but darkness greeting him through the gape left in the building. His blood runs cold at the sight, firmly remembering shutting it as quietly as possible as he vacated the building.

Stepping forward, Jinyoung's feet crush and separate the shards with the heel of his feet, the crunching noise oddly loud in the silence of both the building and the street as he crosses the threshold to his apartment.

As his eyes adjust the darkness, he sees that while the door may have been ruined, the rest of the small lobby area remains untouched; the bench as well as the mailboxes haven't moved an inch, their shapes obvious to make out despite his lack of sight. For some reason, that brings chills to the back of his neck and down his arms, a slight shudder running through him as he cautiously approaches the staircase on the far side of the small area.

Stumbling his way up the stairs, Jinyoung's senses seem to go into overdrive as his fear is heightened - he becomes aware of the harsh pants coming from between his parted, cracked lips and the stomping sound of his flat feet as they climb the steps. His knuckles turn white from gripping the metal railing he guides himself with.

Approaching the landing of the second story, Jinyoung stops abruptly as he finds a light shining directly into his eyes; he throws a hand up to block the abrupt, harsh light, and blinks as a a face comes into view, mere inches from his own.

"Ya, boys, we got a rat!" The unknown person barks, and Jinyoung's breath picks up, loud and obvious as his eyes grow wide. Fuck, is all he seems to be able to think, fuck fuck fuck, not this building, what will Youngjae think, I can't lose this building-

Another loud yell, and heavy feet make their way down the hall in hurried steps, another light coming into view and illuminating the small entryway. "Ah, shit, and I'm all out of bullets too," The other one speaks, a near growl despite the youthful look to the man's face, and he sighs in annoyance. "Guess we gotta use the knife; I fucking hate the knife, it's so... messy."

"W-Wait!" Jinyoung breathes, hands flying out in precaution as he takes a step back down the stairs. His mind is moving too quickly for him to control, and he's panicking instead of coming off as the controlled, stable person he likes to appear as, his hands shaking slightly in front of him. "A rat? I live here! I swear, I don't even know who you guys are!"

Another bark of a laugh from the first guy, and Jinyoung really wants to punch his fucking teeth out, totally would if he wasn't panicking so badly and was one step away from getting killed by two wannabe thugs in a god damn angel apocalypse. "Doesn't matter if you live here, this is our block, therefore this is our building and our shit. So, buddy," Jinyoung sees a glint of steel in his peripheral vision as the man speaks, but keeps his gaze on the two men, "looks like you're trespassing, and we can't have rats in our shit. We already have quite the infestation, if you haven't noticed. Gotta protect what we got left."

There's the stench of alcohol contaminating the stairwell, radiating from the two standing in front of him, and Jinyoung retreats back another step without taking his eyes off of the thugs. "I get it, okay? I'll get my shit and go, just let me-"

"Can you not fucking comprehend in that small head of yours that this building is ours?" The second man cuts in, the knife twisting in his hand visibly now. "Therefore, all the shit in this building is ours. You don't own shit."

He jumps forward at the same time Jinyoung steps back, missing the stair below him completely as he tumbles backwards. His hands find the man's shirt as he does so, gripping tightly and dragging the other down the staircase with him. He tumbles side over side, then head over heels, entire body screaming as he collides with solid concrete and the body of the other man as he scrabbles to stay away from the sharp metal in the person's hand.

At the bottom, he slams into the wall, dazing himself momentarily as he tries to stumble up and away from the other, and he can faintly hear the other man scrambling down the stairs after him. Eyes flying, he catches the gaze of the other just quickly enough to avoid the lunge coming at him, throwing himself to the side to evade the knife aimed at his throat.

Landing on his elbows on old linoleum, Jinyoung groans in pain even as he crawls towards the front entrance. There's a bony hand on his ankle, and like a scared animal, he lashes out. There's a sickening crunch as the heel of his Converse shoe hits the man behind him, but he's free, and he gets through the entrance of the apartment complex before they're on him again.

He's shoved from behind, collapsing onto the street as the weight of a man is pushed onto him; twisting frantically onto his back, he sees it's the one without a weapon and squirms, kicking and pushing to get the man off of him even as his gaze looks for the one with a knife.

His fist collides with the man's jaw, and his grip on Jinyoung loosens enough so that he can kick the thug off of him and regain his footing, breath coming in ragged gasps as he feels the skin at his knees and hands burn with blood forming.

Suddenly, he's facing the two head on, and with a small amount of satisfaction he takes in the twisted, bloody nose of the one he kicked earlier, the trickles of crimson running down his chin and down his throat, the bones clearly broken.

With a start, he sees the more obvious anger in the man's dark, beady eyes as a result of Jinyoung getting a one-up on him, and he takes a step backward. Just as the man goes to attack, knife raised with murder in his eyes, a heavy thud is heard directly behind them, and all three men's gaze focus on it.

In the brightness of the moon, there is no mistaking the extended wingspan springing out of the woman's back, bare feet on glass-covered concrete and hair tangled and wind blown. As she raises from her hunched landing position, her wings unfurl, mottled brown expanding in both directions around her. She looks ethereal, like an angel should, with pale skin and round eyes, but the smile she gives the three when she rakes her eyes on them is so sickeningly sweet that a chill runs through Jinyoung at the sight.

And then she laughs.

Full, loud, boisterous cackles as if the sight is the funniest thing she's ever seen, and Jinyoung retreats three more feet back, almost the the other side of the street. The other two men look wary as well, but are far closer to her and don't dare to take a step, let alone breathe. The one holding a knife redirects it at her, head turned away from Jinyoung but he can still see the lines of tension in the man's body.

She takes a step forward, her steps as graceful and pretty as the rest of her, and Jinyoung's breath catches in his throat, heart thundering with anxiety and the urge to run. She reaches her hands up, small, bony things, towards the unarmed man's face. Meeting his eyes, she smiles that same sweet smile, her giggles still not completely gone, and with one swift movement, she takes his head in her hands and pulls, dislocating it from his body.

Throwing it the side, she laughs gleefully and turns towards the man's partner, who is screaming now, raw and open in the street as the devil makes her way towards them. Sickened by the body slumping to the ground and blood pooling by the head mere feet by him, Jinyoung steps backwards once more, gaze not being able to leave the still-opened eyes of the corpse even as the angel poses advances to her next victim.

As the man's screams grow louder, Jinyoung gives into his urges, choosing flight to fight and turning, full on sprinting away from the screams and blood despite every inch of his body aching and yelling at him to stop from the fight with the thugs earlier. Now, in the face of real evil, Jinyoung is barely frightened by the thought of gangs.

Turning off into an alleyway, he makes it a full block away before the screams abruptly cut off and his heart stops for a moment, blood rushing and pounding in his ears, but he doesn't stop. He continues to sprint, lungs burning and body pleading for rest as tears stream down his dirty, bruised face.

He doesn't stop until he's nearly in the uptown of the city, entering an abandoned, picked over and ruined coffee shop and collapsing onto his back, full on sobs shuddering through his body as he tries to muffle them with a hand. Though he knows he should think of what happens now - of the head lying by his feet, the flecks of blood staining his Converse shoes, and of his lost apartment complex - he feels empty as he closes his eyes, not a single thought in his head as he allows sleep to take him, succumbing to exhaustion.


	3. three.

When Jinyoung opens his eyes, the entire world is white - a bright startling burst of light that makes him flinch, throwing a hand over his eyes to shield them.

A stream of sunlight filters through the faded and chipped paint on the café's window and Jinyoung sits up to avoid its path. Hands resting on his knees and mind cloudy with sleep, he tries to recall the events of the past twenty four hours.

Just yesterday he'd been sitting in the apartment's pantry, taking note of what all he had left and trying to figure how much longer he could last without raiding someone else; today, he sits on dusty, stained floorboards or a café on the edge of the bad side of town, abandoned for weeks by that point.

There are bloodstains on his shoes, speckled crimson on navy blue canvas and creeping up his ankles, bleeding into denim jeans. Slowly, as if delayed, he stretches a wavering hand out to scratch at the spots littering the rubber toe, dried blood flaking off under his fingernails as he focuses on his task.

Pulling his hand back to examine his work, Jinyoung's met with a flash of imagery - the nameless thug's body dropping to the ground, a detached head rolling to a stop at his feet and glassy, lifeless eyes meeting his own.

Flinching away at the sudden memory, Jinyoung scrambles to his feet with disgust as if the body were lying in front of him now, russet bleeding into wood flooring. What disturbs him more than the thought is the fact that it was so easy to picture in his mind, the sound of the woman's hands detaching the head still clear in his mind. The sickening crack and squelch echo, reverberating throughout his skull, and suddenly the café seems unwelcoming, cold and lifeless in Jinyoung's eyes.

As much as he loathes to admit it, the new world is changing him in ways he both dislikes and is grateful for; the old Jinyoung, the loudmouthed and hardheaded college kid who cared for no ones opinions but his own, wouldn't have made it even this far in the apocalypse almost a month to the date.

He would have been too fierce, too stubborn to think before taking action; would have wound up dead at the hands of a gang or an angel one way or another. The thoughts of last night come creeping back from the recesses of his mind, and he pushes them away, far away before the urge to be sick comes back again.

The new Jinyoung is wary, skittish and untrusting of anyone and everyone he meets; he isn't scared, not quite, but he is changed beyond comparison to whoever he seemed to be before the world went to shit.

With self-loathing, he points out to himself that the new Jinyoung is cowardly, too content to board himself inside and away for safety even with his little brother's life in the hands of angels he has no idea how to beat.

The old Jinyoung, he would have been scouring the city for any sight of Youngjae, not taking a breath until he had the boy back in his arms and hell in his eyes for anyone who tried to get in his way. What had changed to take the fire from him, the bite he was so well known for before?

He muses, somewhat twistedly, that maybe Youngjae was the catalyst for the change in Jinyoung's nature - growing up, he'd always had to fight and protect the younger, sacrificing and devoting himself to make sure his brother had a good life, one he deserved. His drive seemed to be his baby brother, and with that variable in his life suddenly missing, there seemed to be something absent from Jinyoung as well.

Standing in the early morning of the shop, he realizes with a start that that shouldn't have meant anything to him; what was stopping him from fighting to find answers to Youngjae's disappearance? No one was to blame but himself and his cowardly actions.

Angry with himself, Jinyoung exits the small café, eyes to the sky and heart pounding in his ears to serve as a reminder of the danger the clouds above now posed as he darted across the street. Quickly picking his way back across the route he had taken away from his apartment the previous day, his body remains tense, as if awaiting an angel to fall from the sky just like before.

He manages to reach the street quickly, the once familiar buildings now seeming desolate and unwelcoming in his eyes as he keeps to the shadows. In front of his complex, his breath catches in his throat as he surveys the remains of last night.

In broad daylight, the unmistakable puddle of blood is inescapable, pooling around the headless body of the thug. The head is gone from the scene, strangely enough, but Jinyoung's eyes cannot tear his eyes away from the stump that used to connect to the head long enough to think of what could have happened to it.

Next to the body is another, the partner that had still been alive when Jinyoung had taken his his chance to escape, and bile clogs up his throat as he takes in what could have been him had he stuck around - the head on this one is intact, thankfully, face down on the concrete, but the stranger is missing both of his arms that lay detached feet away from the rest of him.

The urge to vomit rises too quickly for him to contain it, and he has to turn away to retch at the sight of the remains. Grimacing as he straightens back up, a shudder passes through his body and he has to close his eyes to push the image away.

He doesn't stop trembling until he's back inside his apartment building, four floors above the ground and the bodies.

 

* * *

 

Jinyoung's home is not the same as it was when he left - he figures whatever group the two thugs had been with had cared more about the goods than their friends lives, after all. Anger surges through his body as he takes in the differences - any really valuable food is completely diminished, and that's not all.

A huge chunk of Youngjae's comics are missing from the shelves, as well as many of Jinyoung's own personal collection of books, and this seems to anger him more than his hijacked food supply. Where they really so fucking bored that they would attempt to murder people for a stupid _comic book_?

The ridiculousness of the act resonates with Jinyoung, and he finds himself standing in the middle of his brother's bedroom with tears in the corners of his eyes, laughing hysterically because honestly what the fuck had the world come to?

Sure, he and Youngjae had never been on the good side of town to begin with, but no one had ever stooped so low as this. Times had changed much quicker than he had anticipated, it seemed, and it didn't shock him as much as it would have a month, week, even day ago.

With his food stash gone, there isn't much left in the apartment besides memories and trinkets, and Jinyoung, looking around as he stands in the middle of the space, doesn't see why he ever thought staying in the apartment was a good idea to begin with. It's empty, three rooms that didn't affect Youngjae or his own survival in any way, and it holds no leverage over whether or not he would ever get the boy back or not.

His temper rising at the waste of time, Jinyoung packs whatever he deems necessary for survival into his backpack (abandoned since the apocalypse, considering college wasn't a necessity to angels) along with whatever edible food was leftover.

He's about to walk out of the door when he pauses, something not quite feeling right. Turning and looking around at the lifeless room, he catches sight of one of Youngjae's figurines lying broken on the ground beside his desk; one arm broken and the head twisted out of place.

The morbidity of the small toy strikes something in him, and Jinyoung picks it up without thinking about it. The figurine finds a new home next to the nutrition bar in the bottom of his bag, and he doesn't think about it again until he's three miles out and sneaking his way past abandoned cars and unused turning lanes.


	4. four.

Somehow, the cars that line the road in perfect lines as if they still had somewhere to go scare Jinyoung more than the decapitated corpse had. The highway is completely silent save for the sounds of his own breathing and the faint wind rattling the trees, and his heart is in his feet with every step he takes.

There's no coverage here; he'd left the tall, towering buildings and alleyways behind long ago when he'd decided that the small ghetto he inhabited would produce no results - that'd been a week ago, and now he's managed to get to the major highway that connects the two neighboring cities with nothing but his own two feet. Yet there's been no sign of angel nor human in the time he's been traveling, and each day he gets a little more paranoid, a little more anxious.

The road he's on now is elevated, jammed full of cars abandoned in their owners haste to save their own lives. Many still had gas in them, but the batteries were dead and he saw no use for children's toys and coffee cups littered in the vehicles. He'd taken to sleeping in them each day, or ducking into them when his mind thought that something was flying overhead, but other than that he's been far too lonely in the week following his departure.

Today, he sits in a sedan and chews what used to be a child's gummy snacks melted by the heat, staring at himself in the rear view mirror and trying to find a piece of himself in what he sees there. The Jinyoung of the past would have never be seen looking out of place - he'd always taken great pride in how he looked, and the greasy-haired, blood and dirt-flecked face in his reflection disgusts him yet there's nothing he can do about it. He turns away before he can take in how empty his eyes seem.

He figures he's about a half a mile out until he reaches the uptown, if the towering buildings he can see in the distance are anything to go by; the sun shining into his eyes through the car's window prohibits his vision, but from a glance the distance looks promising.

Finishing his snack - seemingly Spongebob shaped - he crumples the wrapper in one fist and throws it carelessly into the backseat. At the exact moment his hand releases the paper, something slams into the hood of the minivan three cars in front of him.

Stunned, Jinyoung scrambles to join his paper in the backseat, uncaring that the front door is still wide open as he crouches down next to the booster seat and lunchbox to try and conceal himself as best as he can. From where he's perched, he can just make out what's happening outside of the car through the front windshield.

A body lays imprinted on top of the van, the force of it's landing denting the hood into the shape of the man as he groans in pain. Speckled black and white wings lay twisted beneath him, many feathers missing and gashes visible through the spotted white. As Jinyoung watches the angel's struggle to sit, two pairs of feet slam down on top of the adjacent cars. Flinching, Jinyoung ducks down further.

The glint of a weapon reflects off of one of the angel's hands - a tall, muscular male with tawny wings - and he throws it to his partner, a smaller in stature female with wings and hair the color of rust. Both have a predatory gaze in their eyes as they make their way towards the other injured angel, weaving between vehicles silently.

Both reach the man as he attempts to slide off the car, the female slinging him onto the cement with ease. The impact makes a sickening noise, and Jinyoung has to refrain from gasping as a strangled scream escapes the male – not of pain, but a sound of pure hatred that raises goosebumps  
along Jinyoung's nape.

He swings a leg out from under the female, twisting to the side in an awkward movement that has her joining him on the pavement; they struggle as the injured angel tries to get the upper hand on her, and the forgotten partner approaches from behind and with one smooth kick sends the other male forwards onto his stomach.

Before he has a chance to regain his footing the woman pins him to the ground, knees on either side of him as she twists a handful of his feathers in her fist. Though they are facing away from Jinyoung, he can tell that looks of hatred adorn all three of the angels faces as they pause in their position.

The pinned one lets out a sound similar to a snarl, thrashing under her weight yet she remains steady, jerking her arm to pull the wing she holds further back. At his grunt of pain she scoffs, shaking her head. "You did this to yourself," she mocks, yet there is a lack of heat behind it that confuses Jinyoung; her tone sounds almost remorseful, yet she seems to have no pity in her actions.

"If you would have just listened to us, we wouldn't have been forced to do this," The standing male says softly, stepping forward to hand his weapon to the woman. It seems to be an elongated knife, the end curled as if to mimic the shape of a crescent moon.

"Go fuck yourself," the other snarls, voice strained from the abuse on his wings. "We all know why I did what I did, don't act like you two are fucking saints because you were too cowardly to go through with it."

The woman scoffs again, tone harsh as she raises the strange weapon. "It isn't being a coward, it's doing what is expected and right of our kind. You of all people would understand that, Jaebum."

"Who decides what's right and wrong?" the injured one – apparently Jaebum – spits into the ground. "A child playing king, sitting on a throne while we all risk our necks for this shit? It's bullshit, and you would have agreed with me until he started fucking your brother, Tzuyu."

Both she and her companion jerked at the remark, and Jaebum let out a small, pained bark of laughter. "See, we both know I'm right. If it weren't for your brother getting paraded around like a toy, you'd have been right up there beside me. The only thing keeping you from admitting I'm right is that the moment you do he'll start treating Mark like the bitch he is."

Tzuyu made a sound, as if the words were fists that had physically hurt her. The hand holding her weapon wavered, her body beginning to tremble with both anger and fear. "You shut your mouth, Jaebum," she threatened shakily, and her partner - still unnamed - stepped forward to take hold of the other speckled wing. "It's already gotten you into enough trouble as it is."

It was silent for a moment, all three bodies tensing as if they knew what was going to happen next. Then, there was nothing but anguished screaming as the girl came down with her weapon, right into the joint of the man's left wing.

There were no more words exchanged, only the sounds of labored grunts and breathing as the two went to work ravishing the set of wings; the noises were harmonized by the cries of Jaebum as he weakly tried to get away, body twisting in their grip to try and escape the pain.

What seemed like hours later, the two stopped, stepping away from the now quiet male. There was no more screaming, no more attempts to make them stop. Instead, with a daring peak over the headrest, Jinyoung could see that the angel wasn't even moving, save for ragged breaths that moved his entire body.

He ducked down quickly as the two stepped away from their work, gazes sweeping over the area briefly, and the human could feel their gaze on his car like fingertips faintly dragging over his skin. After a pause, they took to the sky without a glance back to what they had done. There was a clang of the weapon dropping to the earth as they ascended back to the sky, the beating of their wings lingering until they were long gone from sight.

What was left was an angel, broken beyond repair face down on the highway; wings damaged beyond repair, bleeding, cut, and broken. Useless now and probably forever, lying in a pool of crimson on the asphalt with a jungle of vehicles surrounding him.

And just beyond sight, a human waiting for him to wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to mention but this is my first fic as well as my first kpop fic so i'm sorry if it isn't as good as some of the writing on here (especially in the got7 fandom bc wOW what talent we have)
> 
> also idk how betas work so this isn't beta'd or anything i just read over it myself before i posted ! pls give me some feedback (positive or negative)


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